


The Smudge on the Wall

by TatoTheDestroyer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Gay, LGBT, Lesbian, M/M, Mutal Pining, Reader Insert, wlw, wolfstar, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24178330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatoTheDestroyer/pseuds/TatoTheDestroyer
Summary: It was apparent that a little boy had survived the killing curse cast by the infamous 'Dark Lord', but what many lacked knowledge of was that a second child survived that night too. Of course, why would they ever need to know that?Her family name had been tarnished, smeared into nothing but a blur of lies; with one father being accused of working for You-Know-Who—the other supposedly fleeting into the night, heartbroken that his lover could ever do such a thing. To betray Lily and James Potter.But in order for both to be kept safe—from infamy and from a ruined family reputation—sacrifices would need to be made. That's why both had to be raised like twins, left on the Dursley's doorstep with a note affixed to their shared basket, explaining who they were, their legacies, and most importantly; that they were to be raised as siblings to protect their very lives.But (Name) Andromeda 'Potter' wouldn't believe a word of it. She refused to believe that her parents were dead, or that she and Harry were really siblings. She loved him like a brother, but a feeling deep in her gut told her otherwise.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Female Reader, Luna Lovegood/Reader, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	The Smudge on the Wall

Sitting on the garden wall of a prim and proper house, sat a tabby cat, eyes unblinking at it watched the street. No owls swooping, nor car doors slamming startled it, its eyes transfixed on the far end of a place known as Privet Drive. It wasn't until almost midnight that it even _dared_ move.

A strange man, adorned in ornate robes and a purple cloak walked up the driveway of number four of Privet Drive, blue eyes sparkling in dim street lights around him. He was tall and shrewd, with silver hair and a massive, long beard that came down to his knobbly knees. His half-moon spectacles glinted in the light, framing his frail face as if to suggest that perhaps there was untold wisdom beneath the surface. He stood out; a stark contrast to how the prim neighbourhood would ever allow themselves to look.

To them, he was an outsider.

He paid no mind, however, instead rummaging through his robes trying to find something. Looking up after noticing he was being watched, he smiled at the cat sitting on the garden wall. The sight of this cat seemed to amuse him, before he shook his head, the smile softening. "I should have known," he mused, pulling out a small, silver lighter. With a flick, he opened the lighter and clicked it. No flames protruded from the lighter, but the nearest street lamp went out with a 'pop'. He clicked it again, another streetlamp going out, leaving nothing but darkness.

A total of twelve times he clicked this device, known simply as a 'Put-Outer', until only two tiny lights in the distance were left, shrouding the surrounding area in a blanket of darkness. It didn't matter if anyone was to look out their windows now—they'd see nothing. The man slipped the Put-Outer back into his robes, moving again to sit on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, eyes fixated on something in the distance, but words still slipped through his lips. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."  
He turned to smile at the tabby, however in its place was a stern-faced woman, black hair pulled back into a tight bun, her cloak an emerald green. "How did you know it was me?" she asked, looking up at the man beside her. "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiff and straight."

"You'd be stiff too if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day." The man's eyes grew wider, giving her a bemused look. "All day? Where's the joy, the excitement? You could have celebrated, there were at least several dozen parties I passed on my way here." She gave an angry sniff, nose high in the air in distaste. "You'd think everyone would be more careful, but no; the muggles know something is awry. It's all over their news. Muggles aren't stupid, they're bound to notice these things."  
"You can't blame them," he said gently, "we've had little to celebrate for a long time." Professor McGonagall's lips pressed into a tight line, drawing a breath through her nose. "I know that," she said through her teeth in an irritated fashion, "but it's no reason to forget that Muggles aren't aware of our existence. They're careless, the whole lot of them," she shot him a sharp side glance, taking his silence as an encouragement to continue. "A fine thing, if on the very day _You-Know-Who_ vanishes into thin air, that Muggles discovered us. I suppose he really has gone, right, Dumbledore?"

The shrewd man, Dumbledore, gave a solemn nod. "It certainly seems so. Care for a sherbet lemon?" Professor McGonagall gave a perplexed look. "A _what?_ " He held up a little yellow sweet wrapped in plastic between his forefinger and thumb. "A kind of Muggle sweet. I'm rather fond of them." She gave him an unamused look, replying in a cold tone with, "No, thank you."

"Continuing on," she huffed as she tore her eyes from watching Dumbledore unwrap one of his Muggle sweets, "even _if_ You-Know-Who disappeared—" He held a hand up as if to gently cut her off. "Surely a sensible person such as yourself, my dear Professor, would call him by his name. All this 'You-Know-Who' talk is nonsense. It's been eleven years, yet no one will call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_." It wouldn't have been hard to miss Professor McGonagall's visible wince, but Dumbledore took no notice, "I've never seen the point of being scared of Voldemort's name." Professor McGonagall straightened herself, half-exasperated, half-admiring, not quite meeting his eyes. "That's different, everyone knows you're the only person he's scared of."

"Ah, such flattery," he said in a calm voice. "He had powers I'll never have." He stuck one of his sweets into his mouth, his other hand retreating to his robe so he could dispose of the wrapper for the time being. "But surely this isn't the only thing on your mind?" Professor McGonagall froze momentarily, seemingly very anxious now. "The rumours," she managed, swallowing a lump in her throat, "about Lily and James Potter?" He bowed his head as if confirming that what she had heard was true. "Oh no, I, I didn't want to believe it but... Lily and James are truly dead? Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, before giving a gentle squeeze. "I know, I know," he tried to be reassuring, but his voice was heavy. "There's more. They're saying he tried to kill their little one, Harry. And that he couldn't. That his magic went awry and that's why he's gone." The glum nod he gave her was enough to tell her it was true. "After, after all that he's done, a little boy made him vanish into thin air? How did he even survive?"

"We can only guess," he replied with a heavy heart. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a dainty handkerchief, dabbing beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore sniffed sadly, pulling out an odd, intricate pocket watch from within his robes. Despite the confusing, complex look of the device, he seemed to be able to read it; considering that he slipped it back into his pocket. "Hagrid's late. I suppose he was the one to tell you I would be coming here?"

" _Yes_ ," she replied briskly, putting her handkerchief away, "and I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you're here?" He rose from the wall, holding a hand out for his companion. She swatted it away and stood up by herself. "I'm leaving him with his aunt and uncle. He'll be safe here." Her eyes went wide, and never before had he seen her give him quite the furious look than this. "With _them?_ I've watched them all day—they're truly horrible people. You can't leave him with them!"

"They're the only family that he has," he soothed, "and they'll explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter." She silently echoed the last part, sitting back down on the wall to support herself. "He'll be famous, a legend. Not a wizard or witch will be unfamiliar with his name." Dumbledore gave a nod. "Exactly, which is why he must stay. Can't you see why he should live in a world where he doesn't have to deal with the fame of a feat he won't ever remember?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind and swallowed instead. "I... Yes, you're right. But how is he getting here?" He peered down at her over his half-moon spectacles. "Hagrid's bringing him." She looked taken aback. "Do you think it's wise to trust him with something as important as this?" He gave her a serious look. "My dear Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life."

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place, just suggesting that you should consider he is more careless than the rest. He does tend to—" she cut herself off, looking around trying to find the source of a low, rumbling sound. "What was _that?_ " It steadily grew louder, swelling into a roar that drew their attention to the sky; to which a large motorcycle dropped from the sky onto the road. "Hagrid," Dumbledore began, catching the attention of the massive man on the motorcycle, "where did you get that bike?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," he seemed to fidget, toying with a bundle of blankets swathed in his arms. He carefully got off the bike and turned yet again to Dumbledore. "No problems?" Hagrid froze, letting out an exasperated, " ** _Well_** ," which made Dumbledore furrow his brows. "'Well'?" Dumbledore echoed. Hagrid said nothing, instead making his way over to McGonagall and Dumbledore, moving some blanket aside to reveal two small, sleeping faces. "Is that Sirius' child?" Professor McGonagall asked in a worried voice. "What about her fathers'?"

Hagrid gave a grim look, closing his eyes solemnly. "Remus disappeared into the night, not long after Sirius. They said," he paused, opening his eyes and glancing at the two sleeping children, "they said that Sirius betrayed them. He didn't, did he, Professor Dumbledore?" Dumbledore let out a breath of air, looking down with an expressionless face at the two sleeping children. "I cannot say for sure if I'm honest."

Professor McGonagall clasped a hand over her mouth as if to suppress a gasp. Slowly, she dropped her hand, eyes falling on the small baby girl asleep in Hagrid's arms. "This, this changes _everything_ ," she quickly then gave Dumbledore a sharp look, "we _are_ going to find young Remus, aren't we?" Dumbledore's gaze didn't shift from the sleeping children, but the tight squeeze of his eyes gave her the answer she needed. "You can't be serious, Albus! She can't stay here! Neither can young Harry, I won't allow this—"  
"My dear professor," Dumbledore said gently, cutting off the anger-fuelled woman, who opened and closed her mouth a few times before falling silent. "We have no other choice. These two have no safer place to go than here." Professor McGonagall scoffed, but said nothing, only providing a distasteful glare as her final response. "I shall make the amendments to the letter as needed, but they are to stay here."

"And her parents?" Hagrid piped up, glancing up at Dumbledore before looking back down at the swath of blankets cradled in his arms. Dumbledore paused for a moment before his eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion. "She and Harry are twins," he finally said, looking at the sleeping children one last time, "nothing more."

Professor McGonagall wanted to say something, anything, to Dumbledore but kept her mouth pressed in a tight line, even as she watched the bundles be placed in a basket out the front of the Dursely's home. They were fast asleep, even after the amended letter was placed on their blanket, but Professor McGonagall couldn't swallow back the lump in her throat. She had a bad feeling about leaving them here—and as they left, the lights returning to the street, she felt she should have fought to keep those two children herself.


End file.
